A Life No One Could Touch
by SomebodyAlreadyHasThatUserName
Summary: A princess cursed to burn. A young man with a dark secret. And the unlikeliest of circumstances which will unite them and determine their fate and that of an entire kingdom. Genderswapped Beauty and the Beast.
1. Prologue

**A Life No One Could Touch**

Once Upon A Time, in a faraway land, a young princess lived in a shining castle. Although she had everything her heart desired, she was unspoiled, selfless, and kind. She had a gentle, loving soul, and was well beloved by her people.

Her father was the King, and her mother a scholar. They raised her with wit and intelligence, exposing her to the best of native and foreign literature, music, and history. The King ruled with a fair hand, and the Queen with a gentle heart, and although they would have their arguments, they remained patient, firm, and loving, as any family should be.

But it did not last.

When the princess was on the cusp of womanhood, her mother fell gravely ill. The doctors from every direction did not know what was wrong, as none of the diagnoses or cures were accurate. She started to fade, like a flower drained of its color by the sun. The King spent all of his time in the royal chambers, and never left his wife's side. But the princess was kept away, for fear that her mother's malady would be contagious. She would cry for her, as the nursemaids and tutors tried in vain to keep her focused on her lessons.

The mysterious illness was solved when the physicians realized the Queen was with child. The life within her had ended, and the toll was taking hers as well. There was nothing the doctors could do – the Queen would die if the child remained inside for any longer, and yet to induce labor would kill her also. The King was at a loss. No one knew what to do, until fate stepped in and made the choice. The Queen suddenly went into childbirth, and by evening she had delivered a barely formed baby boy.

Exhausted, the Queen's life was slipping away fast with fever and hallucinations. In a moment of lucidity, she called for her daughter to be brought to her side. The order was obeyed without question, and the tearful princess came and took her mother's hand. The frail Queen spoke to her for the last time; in a raspy voice, she told her to be good, obey her father, and to never let anything prevent her to love. Then the Queen slipped away, her fingers still entwined in her daughter's.

The King and the princess mourned her for several years. The sun had lost its shine, the flowers their smell, and the birds their song. Many would have expected the princess to grow cold and bitter, but she retained the love and kindness her mother instilled in her. The King tried to do the same, to be there for himself and his daughter, but slowly, he began to spend more and more time alone in his quarters. Some whispered that he was slowly going mad with grief.

Without his stability and input, the court had begun to believe him incapable of ruling, and began to look to the princess for guidance. In the distraction of the Queen's death and the King's failing sanity, the kingdom had failed to notice that the princess had grown up into a young woman of great beauty. Her rearing had more than prepared her to accept the challenge of ruling, and as loathe as she was to admit, there was no way she could bring her father out of his madness. So with little choice and much fear, she took the role of ruler into her own hands. She was declared regent, and the kingdom awoke, as if from a deep sleep. The mourning cloths were taken down, the mirrors were uncovered, and everyone started to readjust to their lives. The princess' vast knowledge and firm hand stirred new life back into the kingdom, particularly its army, fields, and banks. The people knew that they could come to the regent with their problems and expect her to find fair answers. If the princess had shown any fear or doubt, she made it known only to her advisors. The neighboring countries sat up and took notice.

As did their princes.

They saw how she handled her role of authority. They saw how the land had begun to prosper. And they saw how the people loved her. But the thing they noticed most was her great beauty. Eyes like pale blue pearls. Lips red as the poppies. Skin like porcelain. And hair as fiery as the summer sunset. The princes, be they the firstborn sons and heirs of their own land, or the younger sons with little to no money to their name, wanted her. All vied for and sought her hand, arriving at the castle in droves and offering all of their charms, manners, and wiles to win her. As for the princess, she was delighted and disconcerted by the sudden attention. Her father's absence had left her lonely, and she was eager for company and friendship. Against her advisors' warnings, she wore her heart on her sleeve, and began to let herself be charmed and wooed, if only for the simple purpose of wanting to be wanted.

Of the princes, there was one particular young man. He was young and arrogant, and skilled in magic. Once he had seen the princess's portrait, there was nothing and no one that could dissuade him from seeking her hand. And when he first arrived at the castle, he filled the princess's days with laughter and wit, entertaining her with little feats of enchantment and philosophical discussions that went long into the night. For the first time in what seemed months, years even, the princess thought she could smile and laugh freely again, like she did when her mother was still alive, and her father still recognized her face.

But it did not last.

It wasn't long before the prince's cold heart began to reveal itself. He was cruel to the footmen, emptying his drink over their heads. He rode horses savagely, until their necks foamed. He began to order commands that weren't his to give. And he mocked the old king and his grief. The princess, far from stupid, recognized his actions early on, yet refused to come to terms with it. But he continued in his boorish ways, and persisted every day with proposals of marriage, until she grew to hate the very sight of him.

The last straw came on her birthday, when the festivities were interrupted once more by the prince's rude appearance, and yet another proposal, this time more persistent than ever. The princess refused once again, in front of the entire court, humiliating the prince. And in a moment of pure lust, desperation, and arrogance, the prince grabbed her by the waist, and forced a kiss from her. In front of everyone, she slapped him hard in the face, enough to send him sprawling to the floor.

Rage consumed him. He shouted that if he couldn't touch her, then no man ever would. So he cursed her to become a being of fire, to burn anyone who touched or came near her, and to remain so for the rest of her life. At once, the princess lit up and burst into flame, torching her beautiful gown and the gilded ballroom. People began to scream, and trampled each other in the effort to escape. As the desperate princess tried to follow, she ended up burning down a fair portion of the castle. She tried to stop the flames, but had no control over it, and was separated from everyone else by a wall of fire. Nobody could go rescue her, and could only watch in silent horror, as the castle collapsed in on itself.

It was believed that the princess had burned to death, along with her father and several servants. The news spread that the monarchs were no more, and chaos erupted. A new ruler took the throne. The kingdom mourned, and all were forbidden to mention the princess's name, as well as what took place at the fateful ball. Under the new ruler's hand, the country crumbled again, and all seemed lost. Those who had known the princess could only wonder if her heart had been too big and trusting.

And among the peasants, there arose legends. Legends of a monster made of fire, who guarded the castle ruins. That it prevented anyone from crossing into the forest, and was cursed to guard the princess's remains, until the princess should come back to life, or something quenched its' thirst.

* * *

_Hey! Soooo...this is kind of a genderswap of BatB. The whole idea came to me when I saw a painting of a girl made of fire. The title was, "A Life No One Could Touch," and it's by Britt315 on deviantart. When I saw it, the image came to me of a girl who had been abused or mistreated by a man, and developed fire powers to protect herself from ever being hurt again. Then I wondered what would happen if said girl was actually cursed by said violent man, to never know the love she wanted ever again. So, this is a loose adaptation of Beauty and the Beast, and I hope to do it justice. _

_Please don't hesitate to comment or ask questions. This is a work in progress, and while I can't promise orderly, perfectly written work, I can promise you magic and enchantment of some degree. :D_


	2. Concerning Bookworms

Kai had a little time to get to the bookshop before _she_ showed up. He had slipped out through the backdoor of his house, made his way across the stream, and crept through an alleyway, before looking out to see if the coast was clear. The sun was barely peering over the edge of the hills and fields, but the town was already coming to life. Merchants were pushing out their carts, and the shop owners were unlocking their doors. Other than that, however, not too many people were out.

It was much too early now, Kai decided, for Sophia to be awake. If the rumors were true, she valued her beauty sleep.

…Still, it was always good to be careful.

The young man darted across the cobbled street, barely escaping the path of an oncoming cart, but in his effort, he ended up colliding into the baker.

"Whoa!" the baker shouted, as the bread and rolls started to slide off the tray. Kai nimbly caught two or three, but several still fell onto the ground, now spoiled. He offered a sheepish look to the baker, who returned with a glower, pointing to the ground and holding out the other hand in expectation.

"Yes, yes," Kai sighed, dumping the rolls in his arms onto the tray. Then he fished through his pocket for the precious few bills he had, and reluctantly handed the right amount over. This wasn't a rare event, unfortunately, as the potter, milkman, and grocer would gladly tell you.

"Where are you off to, today, Kai?" the baker asked, pocketing the money as he trundled back to the bakery. "It's unusual to see you up and about this early." He began to count the remaining rolls he had.

"The bookshop," Kai said, brightening up as he followed. "I just finished reading Ovid's _Metamorphoses _and it's quite –"

"Yes," the baker murmured, his mind already too busy with other things, "That's nice. _Marie!_" He suddenly roared. "The baguettes! Hurry up!"

Marie, the baker's long-suffering wife, heaved a basket of said goods through the window of the bakery's Dutch door. The baker took them, and she made a face at him when his back was turned. She then winked at Kai, who suppressed a smile and took the opportunity to slip away.

He had yet to find someone who cared to read anything beyond shop signs. Most of the villagers read only when they had to; there was little to no opportunity to read for pleasure when one had to reap the fields, cut wood for the upcoming winter, and take care of livestock, much less their families. Kai could not help but wonder what that said about him. He could argue that he was going to University soon, and that he would get to be around like-minded scholars, but that didn't ease the feeling that he wasn't keeping up his part of running the homestead.

And Mother. How would she make do while he was gone? These days, Kai couldn't let her out of sight for very –

"Fresh fish!" Someone thrust a halibut in his face. "Still living! Good for dinner, yes?" The fish flopped about, as if for emphasis, and Kai recognized the merchandizer as the fishmonger. He tried to wave it away, and continued on his way, though with a faster gait.

The sun was rising higher, and everyone was starting to emerge from their houses. Children wove through the legs of adults in play, and stocky cattle lumbered through, taking up two lanes of foot traffic. The old wives were already gossiping with the butcher, and a squat, round fellow with a comical face was already in a corner mooning over three lovely triplets.

It felt so familiar and yet foreign to be in such a bustling place. Life in the capital had been much busier, but two years of roving had gotten Kai and his mother out of the swing of things. This town was so much smaller, but so much _alive_. People were actually selling and buying and laughing and chatting, instead of being on the run, screaming, and watching their lives – and their families – get torn apart.

As if in response to Kai's thoughts, the deep scar spanning his shoulder and chest ached.

The bookseller had just finished organizing the classics when the door opened. He turned to see Kai ducking his tall frame into the shop, and smiled.

"Kai, my lad!" he said with a beckon of his hand. "Come in, come in! Where have you been?"

"Over the seas and through the wind!" Kai answered with a grin.

"The old school greeting! You'll be ready for the University, yet," the bookseller said, as he stepped off the ladder. "What can I do for you?"

"I came to return the book I borrowed," Kai fished it out of his sleeve and handed it to him. "Got anything new?"

"Not since yesterday, lad! I'm so sorry to disappoint you," the bookseller chuckled.

"Not at all, not at all," Kai murmured, missing the joke as he scanned the shelves. His eyes alighted on a particular spine near the top, and he reached for it.

"I'll borrow this one," he said, handing it to his friend.

The bookseller took it and frowned. "That one? But you've read it twice!"

"I only do that for the best books," Kai answered, "which are in good supply, here!"

The bookseller placed it back into his hands. "Then keep it." Kai looked up in surprise, and the bookseller winked. "A little gift for the school year."

"Thank you!" Kai shook the bookseller's hand fiercely; enough that the bookseller feared his arm would fall off. "Thank you so much."

"My pleasure, lad," he answered, and watched Kai duck under the doorpost to leave. The young man lifted the book to gazing view, and vanished into the buzzing crowd. The bookseller could hear carts screeching and people shouting, and knew Kai had not been looking. Again. He shook his head and returned to organizing the stock.

"Sometimes I worry about that boy," he muttered to himself.

_Hello again! Thanks for the comments, faves, and follows so far! So our male beauty is named Kai. I realize that Kai isn't a very French name, but I rolled with it. I've seen in other genderswapped BatB stories that the male beauty is often a college student, which would make sense for a bookworm. You'll get to see what the town (and Sophia) thinks of that in the next chapter. Please be patient with updates and gentle with critique - I'm still new at this whole thing, and am very aware that this is a rough draft. I kept getting writer's block, and it didn't help reading _other_ Batb stories. _

_So. Questions? (Gentle) comments? Complaints about dancing lobsters? Leave in the comments section._


	3. Under My Skin

Despite some near accidents and jostling, Kai got the hang of it and readjusted accordingly. He never saw the townspeople gawking at him, or whispering about how his head seemed to be stuck in the clouds. There was no time for that when it came to reading Chaucer. He reverently stroked the pages, enraptured by the Miller's Tale, and kept his ears open only for oncoming traffic –

Only to be startled when something grabbed his wrist. Hard.

Pain burst through Kai's head, and he saw flashes of images: skin sliding against skin, lips tearing – no, teeth _devouring _a face – gunshots, people screaming, and fire. So much fire. _Kai!_ A horrible voice hissed into his ear, and he looked up to see a charred, rotting face leering at him. He struggled to bolt out of the thing's grasp, and the fire he had seen had begun to crawl up his arm and –

"_Kai!_" a human voice suddenly shouted in his face, and just like that, he jolted back into reality. He looked up and saw no charred, rotting face. Then looked down at the hand that had grabbed his, and then up at its owner.

"Sophia!" he blurted out in surprise and, to be honest, a little despair. The blonde town beauty smiled shyly in reply. At least, she had _tried_ to smile shyly…but it came across as rather more predatory.

"Kai," she said, as if hurt, "Where have you been? I was looking all over for you! What were you doing just now?"

"How are you up this early in the morning?" Kai stammered as he rubbed his face, still confused and not really thinking through his words. His head still ached.

"What do you mean, 'this early?'" Sophia demanded, her sweet voice gaining a hard edge to it. She tightened her grip on his wrist, and the pain soared.

"I…I just thought you'd be with your friends," Kai gritted through his teeth, and managed to break free of her grasp. "Why waste time looking for me?" His voice had gotten a little loud, and other villagers were glancing over at them. A particular bunch was the young men, Sophia's ardent admirers: they had been watching the proceedings, and they were starting to frown.

Sophia rolled her unusual bright green eyes. "Well, why not?" she demanded, laying her hand on his book. "You are the most handsome man in town, and I the most stunning. And we need to do something about that itty bitty book addiction," she tapped out the last four words with her delicate fingertips, before unceremoniously jerking the tome out of his hands. She ignored Kai's protest and examined it, flipping through several pages.

"How can you read this?" she said with a frown, holding it sideways. "There's no pictures!"

"Imagination helps," Kai muttered, massaging his forehead. "As does intelligence." He reached out towards her. "May I have my book back, please?"

"Of course not!" Sophia went on, keeping it out of his grasp. "The whole town is talking about you, you know. They think it's not right for a young man to spend so much time on his books. Philosophers are not built for country life. That's what my Papa says. Besides, the more you read, the more the town will think you're too good and snobby for them." The last statement was a lie – as strange as the villagers thought Kai was, no one really cared about what he did. They were too busy with their own problems. Not that Sophia would let on.

"That's not what I intended," Kai answered humbly. He was now regaining his bearings, and reached around her for the book. "Not too many people have time for reading, nor the desire to discuss them. And of all people, I am the least qualified in making small talk." He could see the darkening look on Sophia's face.

"Then improve your skills in chatter," she declared, jerking the book away, behind her back. "Appear with me at the Tavern tonight. With your arm in mine, you'll find plenty of people to talk to, and plenty of topics for discussion." Not least of which would be her looks and recent acquirements in fashion, she thought, but that could wait for later.

Kai swallowed nervously, and tried a different approach. "My dear Mademoiselle," he said gingerly, "I am but a poor University student. I have not the means nor money with which to take you out to the tavern, much less engage in such lively conversation as you would inspire." Sophia blushed at this statement.

"But," Kai continued. "I have no doubt that Monsieur LeFou or some other fine gentleman would be delighted to attend to you." He looked up, and much to his relief, LeFou was still nearby staring off after the triplets, mouth slightly parted in oafish longing.

Bad move. If Sophia's features had darkened before, they were now positively a storm. With a flick of her wrist, she flung Kai's book into the nearby mud puddle. Before he had the chance to fetch it, she raised her boot, as if to smash it further.

"There's a lot more important things to focus on than books," she declared. "Like _me_."

"I hope not," Kai muttered to himself.

"Come with me to the tavern," Sophia demanded.

"No, thanks."

"Then kiss me."

"What?"

"Kiss. Me. Or the book gets it."

Kai hesitated – would he really have to do this? He thought hard for a moment, and then stepped forward, holding out a hand. Sophia smiled with triumph, and stepped into his embrace. Kai closed his arms around her, and leaned forward, as if to press his lips against hers. She closed her eyes in anticipation…

And felt something press against her face. It smelled like…bread?

Her eyes flew open, and she discovered Kai had inserted his unwanted roll from earlier into her mouth. In the same fluid motion, he had twisted himself out of her grasp and past her towards the book. He plucked it up, gave Sophia a salute, and took to his heels, running as fast as a fox past the town outskirts, and over the bridge towards home. She would later swear she heard him laughing.

With a scream of frustration, Sophia threw the baguette to the ground, and crushed it with the boot of her toe. The aforementioned LeFou, having heard his name and watched the scene, rushed over and offered his assistance…

At which said lady struck him in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground.

"I am nothing if not persistent," she muttered, half to herself. "And it looks like someone will have to learn that the hard way, _won't_ he?" LeFou, his face buried in the dirt, did not have the means to answer.

With a sigh, Sophia turned and noticed him, as if for the first time. She roughly hauled the short man to his feet, and then – to the latter's shock – kissed him straight on the mouth. Her eyes glowed green with an unknown magic, as did LeFou's, and he fell into a daze.

"Go to the tavern," Sophia commanded with an icy voice, "and tell the boys I'm coming."

LeFou could only nod dumbly, and as soon as she let go of him, he stumbled off towards the other end of town.

* * *

_So here is Sophia, our Gaston. And *gasp* she's a witch! A WITCH! (Name that movie.) Her magic powers will have a big part to play in the future. I had seen other female!Gastons who simply have sway over the town simply because of her beauty - I wanted to add more reason to her power over them. Questions? (Gentle) comments? Leave in the comments section - and watch out for the dancing lobsters. The next update should be sooner than this one...if procrastination doesn't get a say in it._


	4. The Old Love and the New Love

_O-kay, this is where it's going to veer off into nightmare fuel territory (TV Tropes, anyone?), so be WARNED. Don't let the kiddos read this, and don't read this before you go to bed/are easily triggered. Just skip to the next chapter, or look at the summary at the end of the page_.

* * *

When Kai had reached the cottage, he could barely catch his breath – whether from laughing or running, he wasn't sure. He knew his mother had raised him better than that; it would be unbecoming of a gentleman to insult a lady, she would say…even if said lady had damaged his property. The thought brought Kai's attention back to his book. It was muddy, but he wiped it off with his sleeve, and other than being a little scratched, it was none the worse for wear. The title, _Chaucer_, was engraved in gold lettering.

Shame flooded him. Certainly, Sophia was a complicated and demanding young woman – not unlike the Wife of Bath – but to stuff her mouth with a baguette and run was not the best way to exit a conversation. However, there had been few other options that he had not tried, such as politely excusing himself, crossing a busy street, and (like today) trying to do business when she wouldn't be around –

And each one failed spectacularly after the other.

Sophia was growing more persistent and insistent with each endeavor; it was a saying in town that whatever Sophia Latrieau wanted, she would get. And somehow, she would find him and try to grab hold of him, causing those horrible visions and headaches. He was quite certain they weren't pangs of love.

…Nor was she the first person to cause such a bad reaction.

But Sophia surely meant no harm, and he was certain that the only harm he had dealt to her was her pride.

Ah, well. The other young men would be entering the village soon, fresh from the morning hunt. They would be there to attend to Sophia's needs, and comfort her with compliments and flirtations. Soon she would forget about Kai's infraction against her.

But then again, Kai thought, a girl like her wouldn't take things so lightly.

A loud boom from within the house interrupted his thoughts, followed by smoke pluming through the windows. _Mother_, Kai thought with terror. He scrambled to the door and flung it open, to be greeted by thick smog. Against his better judgment (or was it fright?), he waded forward into the fumes.

"Mama?!" he called, eyes stinging from the heat. "Mama, are you alright? Where are you?"

A frail cough answered him, and he picked his way through the smog and towards the kitchen, being careful to not run into any furniture. _This can't be good for the house_, he thought. _We just finished paying it off_. He could see that his mother's silhouette was in the corner by the fireplace, holding a handkerchief against its mouth, and waving away the smoke with its other hand. Kai began to wave his own arm about to help clear the air, and rubbed his eyes with the other fist.

As the smoke started to dissipate, he could see that the walls were smudged with black, and that the cauldron was bubbling over with some white gunk. He peered into the pot, only to be affronted by a horrible smell emanating from within. Coughing, he placed the lid over it, and opened up the windows nearby. Mother had gathered herself into a chair, handkerchief still covering her mouth. She greeted her son with a courteous hand wave, and started coughing harder.

"Did you get a new book?" she rasped, before wiping the ash streaks off her face. Kai nodded and withdrew it from his sleeve. "Did you succeed with the recipe?" he asked, taking another good look around the kitchen.

Mother smiled. "Not yet," she said, with a nod toward the cauldron, "but I'm getting closer. I think I missed a few ingredients. If I have my measurements correct, though, I may not even have to start over from scratch. Either way, I don't think the babies will mind."

To the village and the surrounding areas, Mother – or Maureen, as they knew her – was one of the few midwives on hand. When she and Kai had arrived, they had fallen on hard times, with midwifery being one of Maureen's few marketable skills. It had taken them a year to attain a home, and her a year to earn the villagers' trust, which was awarded to her the night she delivered a howling set of triplets to the fishmonger and his wife. Since then, she had been busy catching babies and seeing to the new mothers' postpartum care.

"What was kind of soup was it, again?" Kai now asked, as he scraped the gunk off the cauldron.

"It's not a soup," Maureen said with a frown. "It's a salve."

Kai gave her a look of horror. "Oh, no. I just tasted it!" Then before Maureen could get up or speak, he started to make exaggerated retching sounds, pulling together an utterly sick look on his face. He tried to, anyway, but he started laughing in between, and couldn't stop.

"I should smack you!" a relieved Maureen scolded, before cuffing him on the ear. "That'll teach you some manners!" But Kai continued to laugh, until she started to smile. Then with sudden inspiration, he seized her around the waist and jolted into a dance. They cavorted around the kitchen, leaping and galloping and tripping over each other's feet and laughing til their sides ached.

When they sat down to catch their breath, Maureen laid her hand on Kai's book. She picked it up and traced the gold lettering with her fingers. It was then that she looked up and saw Kai's clothes.

"How did you get mud on you?" she questioned.

Kai looked down, and realized that some had gotten on him in his tussle with Sophia. He froze, and looked away. Maureen, however, recognized the tactic. She searched him with her eyes, trying to connect the mud to the shirt, then to the book, before realization arrived.

"Did you get shoved again?" she said, her voice low and steady. "Are the other fellows making trouble for you?"

"No," Kai said, a little relieved. "I'm fine. They're not picking on me."

"Are the girls?"

"_Mother_," Kai groaned. "Girls don't pick on me."

"I just want to know what happened," Maureen said evenly. "Talk to me." She got up from the table and went over to the cauldron.

Kai watched her add spices and stir. He wasn't sure what to say, nor how much. He was on the verge of asking her whether she thought he was odd, but couldn't bring himself to say it. It wasn't a topic he wanted to breach, even with himself. It would be embarrassing to ask one's own mother if she thought he was unusual, but there were times when there was nothing for it but to get it out to someone other than himself.

"I'm just having trouble," he admitted.

"With?"

"People," Kai said. Then it came rushing out before he could stop. "I don't think I fit in with the rest of the village. I think I read too much. Nobody wants to talk about Ovid's poetry, or Pascal's wager. Some are more interested in…bread." He stifled a laugh at the memory of Sophia's stuffed mouth.

"Not the young men," Maureen agreed, still stirring. "Most young people your age are out working in the fields, or training horses." She smiled to herself. "None of them are going to University, though. I understand where you're cornered."

"I'm not trying to be different," Kai said, sliding his hands over his book. "I just don't know – I'm just not interested in hunting, or fishing, or drinking at the tavern." For months, he had tried to find common ground with his peers, but the thought of slaying wild animals and taming frightening horses had disagreed with him, in one case rather violently on the first and only hunting trip he had undertaken. The young men had avoided him afterwards for a long time.

"But what about the girls?" Maureen said, reaching for another spice. "They seem to be quite interested in what you have to say. Just last week, the Belleau triplets came by the house to look for you. They wanted you to read to them, and tell them more about Aristotle's anatomy and physiology."

Kai's face flushed. "I…I don't think they wanted to know about his thoughts on the subject, Mother." He _really _didn't want to think about that one too much.

"Well, then what about Sophia?" Maureen asked. "She seems to be a decent girl. Very pretty, and _very_ clever, from what I hear in the market. Not too focused on looks, and comes from a well-off family." She turned and gave her son a meaningful look.

Oh, no, Kai thought. It was _that_ look.

"_Yes_," he groaned, putting his head in his hands. "Sophia is indeed very pretty, alright, and clever by half, but she's…arrogant and conceited and rude, and…oh, Mama, she's not for me."

"The fishwife _does_ have a way of exaggerating things," Maureen conceded. "But I wouldn't put Sophia off just yet. She doesn't have cooties."

"She can't read, either," Kai muttered.

Maureen gave him a look of warning. "Come help me with the salve," she said with a beckoning of her hand. "I need someone to test it."

"I thought it was for babies," Kai said, but got up and wandered over to the cauldron. The salve had turned a pale grey, and was no longer bubbling. It still, he noted grimly, had a foul stench to it.

His mother did not answer, but simply motioned for him to sit down on a nearby stool, and pull off his shirt. Kai hesitated, and then pulled the cloth to reveal his chest. A thick scar roughly spanned from his shoulder to his abdomen. The skin surrounding it puckered deeply, transparent with black blood vessels snaking out here and there – particularly near the heart. Kai saw the pained expression on his mother's face, and felt a mixture of guilt and pride. After all, an old soldier had once told him, a man's wounds tell a story, and that of bravery.

"It's alright," Kai told his mother. "Things aren't always what they seem." Maureen paused and gave him a pitying look that made his heart sink, before she dipped a rag into the salve. The cauldron hissed, like a disturbed lizard, and began to bubble again. It did no harm to Maureen, however, and she squeezed out any excess fluid that there was to the cloth. Kai inhaled and tried to smile at her. She did not notice, but kept her focus on his wound. Carefully, carefully, she brought the cloth to his chest, and dabbed at it.

There was a sudden roar in Kai's ears, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. There was no vision of a rotting face this time, but of a snarling dog with a frothing mouth, tearing apart a deer. The metallic stench of blood filled his nostrils, and he heard the inhuman screams of some poor _thing_ being burned alive. He couldn't move his limbs, and a searing pain burst through his body in a spasm. As nightmares flew in and out of his vision, he raised his hands to defend himself – and to his horror, he saw that his fingers were slowly burning away, charring into ash.

The vision suddenly ended, and he found himself on the floor of the kitchen, on his hands and knees, and breathing hard. He struggled to his feet and staggered over to the sink; almost immediately, his stomach rolled, and he emptied its contents. There were footsteps, and he could sense his mother's hand reaching out to touch his back, like she did when he was a child.

"No!" he gasped, and jerked away. The wound was now very sensitive, enough that with one touch, the horrors would start all over again. The smell of charred flesh from his vision still hung in the air, but he doubted that Mother could smell it. He turned around to see her, and apologize. She was frozen to the spot, watching him with a hand over her mouth, and a look of horror on her face. He followed her gaze, and saw that the scar had blackened from the salve, as if it had burned.

"My fault," he heard Mother say. "This is all my fault. I had made it weaker this time…I thought it would hurt less." Kai glanced up to see that she was struggling in vain not to cry. His own heart broke to see her like this.

"Mama," he said hoarsely, and tried to go forward, but his legs gave way, and he clung to the nearest chair. "Mama, it's okay," he pleaded when she reached towards him, and he pulled himself up an into the seat. "It's just a setback." He paused for a moment. "This won't be for the babies, will it?"

The joke earned a startled laugh from her. "No, no, it won't," she assured him. "Is your stomach okay? Does you still feel nauseated?"

"I'll be okay," Kai assured her. He hated her having to see him like this, and making her laugh made him feel better. As long as he kept things light, it would be easier for both of them. He noticed his shirt on the ground nearby, and gallantly hoisted it up like a flag, waving it about. Mother laughed again and helped him ease it back over his chest, and he found his strength slowly coming back to him. Together, they hoisted him up from the chair, and they limped to the spare room, since his own room was upstairs. _Keep it together_, Kai ordered himself, wincing from the pain. In the spare room was a washstand and cot; it was this that he eased down onto, and let his joints and muscles relax. Mother reached out and stroked his sandy hair. There was a slight rustle behind her back, and suddenly _Chaucer_ appeared on top of Kai's stomach. He smiled weakly at her, and mouthed a thank you. "Rest," Mother mouthed in return, before she left the room.

As soon as she was gone, Kai dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaned. That had _not_ gone well. It had taken him all of his willpower not to cry out from the pain, and the fact that he had retched in front of his mother was worse. Curse that terrible wound - it wasn't the kind he was hoping for...that actually healed and crusted over with time. Seeing the anguish on Mother's face was only worse. He had almost failed her that night in the forest, and he had to relive the attack every time something calm and kind provoked it - a simple touch, a word, and especially things that were not out of the ordinary. If he could only find the epicenter of cause - because this was not how anyone should live, much less the only man in the household. How was he going to get through University like this? How could he be certain that Mother could be alright on her own?

A man's wounds told his story, and that of bravery, but Kai was certain that his story was the wrong one. There wasn't much he could do. He had tried to be a hero once, and things went horribly wrong. People hurt him whether they tried to or not, and he did the same to others. That was why books were his company - they could not hurt him, and the worst he could do was accidentally rip a page. Maybe University was what someone else would need, to gain some independence and space for their family, but the wound was stepping in to make things worse. If he didn't go to University, he'd fail to find work; if he did go to University, no one could know of his disability, and Mother could go gray with worry. And he...he...

Was over-thinking it. It served him right for the trouble he had made today. He had to reorganize and prioritize what things needed to be done. He would rest, and when the pain would ebb, he would get together what books he needed, and possibly head out for University in the following week. It was silly - Mother could take care of herself, and he needed to straighten out his life. No adventures. No pain. Just knowledge and stepping forth into the great wide world.

There couldn't be too many things too worse than that. And so his eyelids drifted shut, and he fell into a easy, dreamless sleep.

* * *

_Summary: Kai has bad road rash and struggles with confidence. I'm pretty sure that in real life, boys don't overthink that much, but hey, I'm just a girl. The wound will (obviously) become more important later in the story, and soon we'll get to meet our heroine! Yay! Thanks for reading so far, guys, and fear not to ask gentle questions or make comely comments._


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